


Whatever Side

by kingofemo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Reaper76 - Freeform, every man that wears a Hawaiian shirt and grills is into jimmy buffett fight me, this is the first fluff I've written in years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofemo/pseuds/kingofemo
Summary: Jack Morrison signs his life away for a procedure that will most likely kill him. He's taken the hospital bed of another fallen soldier, next to what he presumes will be an empty one on the other side of the curtain.That bed's definitely not empty.





	Whatever Side

“By signing this, soldier, you're possibly giving us your life. We've been testing it for a long time, and so far we either get no results, or we get dead soldiers.” The head biochemist sighed as a young Jack Morrison, already hardened from a few years of combat and weeks of confinement during war, snatched up the pen from the table and signed anyway. “There’s only a possibility that it'll work. I ain't gonna sugar coat it. You're a valued member of the team and it would be a tragedy to lose you.”

 

“And it's a tragedy I'm still alive, officer.” He pushed the paper towards him. “If it's gonna work on anyone, it'll be me.”

 

“We believe we're… close. It's started to show symptoms we were hoping for. Some of our men and women just haven't had the will to make it through it, seems like.” He cracked a tight smile and handed Morrison a large stack of papers confirming what horrors he may go through. “But you might just be stubborn enough to endure. We'll set you up in three weeks.”

 

With a solid salute, Morrison turned to leave without another word.

 

“And, soldier… do yourself a favor and go live your life as hard as you can until then. You might not leave afterward.”

 

He said nothing and continued, going to his car and driving in a straight line with no real destination. Part of him was screaming about how stupid it was to sign up for this damn operation, how he wasn't going to survive whatever they were going to so to him, how he was going to  _ die _ in three weeks.

 

But the other part of him was content with it. He was a test subject, serving his country, giving his life so that others could learn from what he'd been through and study his body to create a better solution for others.

 

Perhaps it was stupid to step down from where he was, serving in the frontlines of the last world war with a few medals to show from it. But he didn't care. If this worked, if it truly paid off, they'd carry him up in the ranks and he'd be unstoppable. He'd be an actual  _ hero _ . He could show for it, have something more tangible than medals - he could change the world, not just save a few lives.

 

Something big was going to happen, everything was far too damn peaceful. After the treaties had been signed and everyone in the UN was shaking hands again, after America had gone back into trade deals with the outside world and was starting to build itself back up… it felt like the calm before the storm. 

 

If Jack Morrison, someone who had survived a POW camp in the middle of the desert for weeks on end, could survive a few weird injections and a few hundred tests… he could very well become a literal  _ superhero _ . Not like it was public knowledge yet, but those on active duty were given an option.

 

He could stand up for America and defeat anyone and anything that dared to break his country back down, he could show that the USA was still alive, well, and willing to stand on its own.

 

He'd never smoked one before, but Morrison stopped at a random tobacco shop in a rundown ghost town in Ohio once he hit the state border and bought himself a fat cigar. He took a drag and coughed quietly, sitting on the hood of his slowly rusting car, watching the sunset over what seemed like literal miles of corn.

 

This was what living life was to normal people, right? He let out another puff. What even was normal anymore?

 

When he was a teenager, life was so simple, it seemed. All the things people worried about were their self images and what to eat, but now it was if time had reversed and America was back in the olden days he'd only read about. People were digging the earth raw looking for oil, for gold, for anything worth any money. There were more traders than shops. He'd literally met trappers on his way through his little journey. 

 

Or maybe that's just how the Midwest was.

 

Sure, what used to be his cellphone when he was a child was upgraded to a new technology that was basically augmented reality in watch form, and most of the world's vehicles were running off of water and corn syrup… but time stopped in the States. It was reverting to the wild west in some places, into crime-ridden cities owned by mobsters in others. 

 

This wasn't the America he wanted to fight for. This wasn't the world he wanted to survive for. 

 

So either he died to get out of it, or he lived to change everyone's lives.

 

There was no way anyone would be able to talk him out of committing when that three weeks was up and he was on his flight to a secret base somewhere outside of Amarillo, Texas. Few tried, but none were successful.

 

He had one bag of things, and that was that. He sold his house, his belongings, put it all in the bank, wrote a will, and left. In what felt like an instant, he was there, he was walking into the building, signing more papers, listening to more warnings, being led to a hospital bed… and instantly, a nurse walked in to ready his IV. 

 

“You arrived mighty early. Good thing, too, this half of the room’s got the window.” She beckoned over to her right. “Y'all are going to go through it every day for a long time, you know that, right?”

 

“Yeah. I'm aware.”

 

“You're far too handsome for this, really,” She cooed, sticking him with a needle as gently as he could. “It'd be a shame to lose you. You should run away now, maybe you and I…”

 

“I'm not interested. Sorry.” Jack let out a sigh. “I'm just ready to get this over with.”

 

The woman nodded solemnly, knowingly, then walked to the other half of the room, pulling the curtain back to where it was hiding him from his roommate.

 

He was trying not to listen, but his roommate had been coughing since he walked in. He wasn't able to see him on his way into the room because of the curtain completely surrounding him, but there was someone on the inside… not doing well. There was most likely blood oozing from his lungs, as far as he could tell from the sound.

 

He probably just signed up to fill an empty bed of a recently fallen soldier. And someone would take the place of the one next to him. And possibly his place, too.

 

As long as it did something to help his country, he didn't care anymore.

 

After a long, silent wait that seemed to go on for hours, three doctors and a nurse wheeled in a trolley of medical equipment. They stuck him all over with stickers, clipped on wires to them, stuck an oxygen sensor to his finger, applied a catheter and a plethora of other wires, and stood back.

 

“Thank you, soldier, for your service. Both past and present.” The doctor that looked most prestiged saluted Morrison. “The first step is to get your bloodstream filled with this yellow biotic fuel. The next is to wait and see if your body rejects it. After that, we can go to phase two with the radiation. That should activate this liquid here and unlock the next step in our evolution.”

 

“Then let's get it started,” He said plainly, though his heart was pounding in his chest. The yellow liquid was hung above him and put through his IV, and he sat back and clenched his hands into a fist. 

 

It fucking  _ burned _ .

 

It was so painful, so ungodly excruciating, that he didn't notice the team leave him. He didn't notice them come back, or refill his bag, or setting up a bucket for him. 

 

He was in so much pain, he didn't notice five entire days pass.

 

Morrison came to eventually, accepting the pain, normalizing it, getting used to every heartbeat pushing daggers through his veins. The curtain between the two soldiers had been left open, and the other was sitting upright with a bucket of his own in between his legs. He had a sickly look to him - his eyes were sunken in and his black hair was falling out in patches. He had a scraggly beard and his skin seemed to barely cling to his face, though he looked as if he could've had more muscle on him than Jack at one point. 

 

He just looked… spent. 

 

“You look like shit,” His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been smoking since before he left the womb. “But you've been here longer than the other two guys I've roomed with already.”

 

Jack tried to speak, but it had been so long, he couldn't get words out. He just let out a huff.

 

“76, huh? My new name’s 55, I guess.”

 

“... _ What _ ?”

 

“Oh. Yeah, I heard your entire briefing. Didn't really give you the specifics. They're going to take a hundred of us in, try it on all of us, and if we all die, they're gonna go back to monkeys again.” The other man sat back, letting out a long, calculated breath. “We've already been tagged. Your number’s on your drip bag thing. Among other places. This stuff makes you emaciated and ugly, they have to know in case they forget who you were.”

 

Morrison looked up - he was telling the truth, it was written onto the bag, alright. And he noted the tag on his toe, as well.

 

He stared down at his number in horror.

 

“They didn't think you were going to make it through the first phase, either. I thought I was going to have to hear a third soldier die.”

 

“How… long have you been here?”

 

“Uh, almost three weeks, I think. Maybe a month?” He leaned back. “I'm on phase three starting soon, so, nice knowin’ ya.”

 

After a pause, Jack furrowed his brow to try to focus and actually see his roommate. “Aren't you Agent Reyes?” He let out a shaky breath. “You were part of that case in -”

 

“Nope, I'm 55 now,” He let out a painful chuckle. “Nah, you're right. But since we're seeing each other at our worst, you can just call me Gabe.”

 

Morrison smiled, closing his eyes. “Jack Morrison.” He felt a little more comfort now that he wasn't completely alone, but he knew in his heart it wouldn't be for forever. “They didn't tell me about a third phase.”

 

“They don't expect anyone to make it through the second, I'm just stubborn as a mule.” Gabe tried to stifle a cough, but was unsuccessful. He hacked a bright yellow liquid into the bucket. “If they do, they usually just end up back to normal, besides being filled to the brim with cancer cells.”

 

“We really made a damn stupid decision, didn't we?”

 

“Yeah, but either way I come out of this, I'll be happy.” He wiped the liquid from his lips lazily. “Phase three is another round of the yellow shit, except instead of just a nice little drip you have there, they replace all you’ve got with it, I’ve heard.”

 

“They fill you up with this shit?” He furrowed his brow. “Do they actually expect it to work like blood?”

 

“I don't think so. They claim that it'll activate something in our bodies that makes us indestructible.” Gabe shook his head. “But first, they gotta get us almost to the point where we die.”

 

“Well, what if we don't?” Jack felt a fluid rise in his lungs as well, and he let out a violent cough, a mixture of yellow and red splattering into his hands. “What if we  _ do _ become indestructible?”

 

“Then I'm going right back to the man in charge myself and trying to talk these people into figuring out how the hell I made it through and how the 54 guys before me didn't.”

 

“Maybe the secret is being a stubborn prick. We'd probably both make it, in that case.” They shared a smile, a genuine one, and things didn't seem so awful for a moment.

 

-

 

A week later, Morrison was already going through radiation therapy, himself. His bucket was next to him at all times, and it was almost necessary for them to bring in a second for him.

 

It was obvious that his body didn't want to take to whatever it was in his veins, but he wasn't dead yet. His chats with Gabe kept him motivated, and they joked that Jack needed to hurry the hell up and catch up with him so they'd be out at the same time. 

 

“You know what I miss?”

 

“Hmh?”

 

“Filet mignon.”

 

Jack got sick just thinking about food. 

 

“Not a fan of steak? God, I haven't had solid food in a month. If I get out of here, I'm going to a roadhouse and eating literally fucking everything on the menu.” Gabe wriggled his legs. “Come to think of it, I haven't even stood up in a few weeks.”

 

“Do you think it's a good idea to -” Jack allowed himself to be cut off by Gabe’s feet touching the floor. He just kind of sat that way, staring at the tile beneath him. 

 

“Got enough strength to sit up like me, Jack?”

 

He tried, and succeeded, but kept the bucket clutched close to him. The floor was freezing on Jack’s feet, he must've had a fever from hell from the treatments. His head was blurry from the movement, and he was so unfocused he didn't notice that his new friend had dragged his IV drip over and sat next to him on the hospital bed.

 

“You know, I do plan on dying here. I signed up knowing I was going to go.” The dark circles under Gabe's even darker eyes were terrifying, almost as if he was wearing shitty zombie makeup for a low budget 80s movie. His skin was even more pale than when Jack first saw him, as if it had become thinner and more brittle. The life had been sucked directly out of him, and he was skin and bones; but there was still something about him that felt very much alive to Jack.

 

“I signed up because I wanted to die,” Morrison looked away from his friend, down at his feet. “Figured I might as well help on my way out.”

 

“Me too, honestly.” They sat in silence for several minutes, until Reyes spoke up again. “Now, I kind of hope that I do make it. But only if you do. If we became super soldiers or whatever, I think you and I would make a good team. Brains and brawn. Pretty boy blonde soldier and the gruff agent hiding a flask in his suit.”

 

“We've been through a lot of shit together already, haven't we?” Jack smiled. “It'd be an honor to serve by your side.”

 

“And if we do walk out of here alive, and superheroes, I'll take you to that random roadhouse with me. My treat.”

 

“You'll be out of here first, so you have to look for something that's actually good. Scope out what they've got out here.” The thought of food made him feel like he had to lurch again, but his fear of getting it on his friend held it back. “I love a good barbeque.”

 

“That's my man.”

 

They shared a warm smile, and somewhere in both of them, they found peace in their disgusting situation. It smelled strongly of latex, death, and cleaning solution every day. They could hardly go an hour without violently rejecting everything that was pumped into them. They watched other fallen soldiers being wheeled away through the window to the hospital's hallway every day, it seemed. 

 

But something about being there, with each other, made it much more bearable. 

 

“Sir, what are you doing out of bed?” A doctor walked in, someone wheeling a terrifying machine behind her.

 

“I was on a date,” He joked, and if blood could rush to his face, Jack probably would've blushed like an idiot. Gabe got up slowly, and scuffled back to his bed, lying down and allowing a team of doctors to inspect him.

 

“We haven't found any signs that any of the tumors you've developed are going to grow, so we're going to start the next step.” He just nodded. “Thank you for your service, soldier.”

 

After being hooked up, they put another IV directly into the port in his center and gave him something to help him sleep. They pressed a button, and the process began. Jack could see the yellow fluid pumping through one of the tubes, and his heart broke as he barely heard Gabe say “See you on whichever side we end up on, Jack,” before he closed his eyes and the nurse slid the curtain between them closed. 

 

A week later, Jack heard the nurses wheel the bed next to him out of the room, and he allowed himself to cry for a few moments. He made a silent prayer for his new friend, then decided he was going to make it out of this. He'd eat a whole damn 3 pound steak in Gabe’s honor. He'd get a tattoo of his name or something. There was no way he was dying to this. 

 

When the doctors informed Jack that he didn't form any tumors whatsoever, he knew the next step and allowed himself to fall asleep for the rest of the week.

 

-

 

When he woke up, Jack was in a different room. He was still in the hospital, but the IV drip was a clear liquid instead of a yellow one, and he didn't feel anywhere near as weak as he did before he fell asleep. In fact - he felt lighter, he could breathe easier, he could hear  _ everything... _

 

After coming to completely, he noticed the room quickly filling with doctors, all of which cheered and hugged each other. His mind was fuzzy and he didn't understand why at first - until he realized that he was either dead and hallucinating, or he had been a success.

 

“Sgt. Morrison,” A doctor wearing a few medals pinned to his suit stretched out a hand and shook his. “You've come out alive, and your vitals are showing that the process has been a success. Once we've unhooked you from the equipment, you may go where you like for the next month. We will give you a credit card with a high limit, but we expect you back here on the seventh to meet up with the other two successes and begin training.”

 

“Three of us made it? Out of a hundred?”

 

“Sergeant, I don't think you understand, you've been an absolute success. You literally cannot die, you cannot be cut, you can stop a bullet - three out of a hundred is a miracle.” 

 

That did sound sort of like a miracle, but it almost sounded too good to be true. “The seventh?”

 

“Yes, sir.” The doctor motioned to the suitcase next to Jack's bed. “Your things are there. As soon as they're done with you, you're free to go.”

 

Feeling quite empty, and dissociating through the entire release process, Jack could only think of how badly he wanted to go to a deserted island with nothing but a grill and as much beer as he could put onto this goddamned government issued credit card. He opened the door to the outside, blinded by the sun, and dragged his feet over to his old junker of a car.

 

“Hey, there, 76,” Came a familiar voice, though it was much more full of life. And it was  _ beautiful. _ “Glad to see you stuck it out in there. What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

 

Leaning against a brand new black convertible was Gabriel Reyes, wearing all dark clothes and a toothy grin. Jack just froze in disbelief, again questioning if he was hallucinating or if his friend really was there, walking over to him, because oh  _ god  _ his heart felt a hundred times stronger than before and it was beating harder than he’d ever felt it.

 

“Scouted out the area. It’s a good hour’s drive, but I found the perfect place for you. I walked in and they were playing Jimmy Buffett, and I felt like that was the sign I was looking for You want to go for a ride, Soldier?” He gave Jack a wink.

 

“I’m going to kill you myself, you damn  _ asshole. _ ” Morrison flung his arms around the other, pulling him in for a long, tight hug. “I thought you  _ died  _ in there. They pulled you out and I heard nothing about what happened, but here you are, dressed up, with a camaro, and…”

 

“Hey, I know. They wouldn’t let me back in there. But c’mon, let me make it up to you. We’ve got until the seventh to do whatever the hell we want.”

 

There was a pause as they pulled away from each other.

 

“What I wouldn’t give for a beer right now.”

 

“See, that’s what I want to hear!” Gabe laughed, then hopped into his car and started it. “You don’t know how long I was waiting out here, trying to catch you like I was from some sort of lame 80s movie.”

 

“I’m worth the wait.” A smile spread across Jack’s lips, and it showed no signs of going anywhere. He leaned back into the car’s seat, pushing it back, appreciating the sunlight as it shone down on him more than he probably ever had.

 

“Yeah,” Gabe scoffed playfully, pausing to look at Jack now that he was full of life again, before he pulled into the road. “I guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I was going through my documents and I found like 4 overwatch things, this one was finished so HERE WE ARE!
> 
> Thanks for reading this! I totally forgot I even wrote it :o


End file.
